Fourth Attempt: Elite Escorts, #1

By Lynn Burke

A Contemporary Romance Novel by USA Today Bestselling Author Lynn Burke.

 

Can I earn her trust before she breaks my heart?

 

Wren Shipman is not my usual leggy blonde, but she ensnares me. Tilts my world off its axis.

 

At my first attempt to ask her out, she claims a wealthy, arrogant playboy isn't her type—an accurate judgment according to my social media.

 

But I only want her.

 

At my second attempt, she claims she's too busy earning her college degree to refine the stain of her poor upbringing.

 

But I already see her as perfect.

 

In vulnerable desperation, I make a third attempt to show her I'm hoping for more than just another notch on my bedpost.

 

I end up in the friend zone and fall even harder for the woman who is everything I'm not.

 

When bitter reality threatens Wren's dreams of graduating, I jump at the opportunity to reveal I have depth beyond what she assumes.

 

Will she give me a chance to prove I'm trustworthy…or will she break the heart she refuses to believe she owns?

 

*Fourth Attempt is the first book in the Elite Escorts series featuring playboy bachelors and the women who capture their hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynn Burke
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215686324

Lynn Burke

USA Today Bestselling author Lynn Burke is a CrossFit and coffee addict. Her three spawn dictate how often she can be found hunched over her Mac, typing as fast as her fickle muse cooks up hot stories.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Wren

Iclimbed from my old Chevy Lumina, the muggy atmosphere immediately prickling my skin with the need to sweat. Early July, and wicked summer weather already haunted Massachusetts, causing flowers and maple leaves alike to droop.

Attempting to fill my lungs with the swamp-like air and yanking my bag over my shoulder, I slammed the squeaky driver door shut and took a quick perusal of the half-built monstrosity on the lot behind me.

The daily noise of power tools and nail guns didn’t bother me. The fact the condo building would eventually rise higher than my third-floor apartment in the old Victorian house and cut off my view of the Merrimac River?

Yeah. I wasn’t happy about that fact, but I was in no place financially to move.

One good thing about the construction that started up a few weeks ago? Countless muscled men to fuel my imagination and give me something to fantasize about since real life working the night shift at a pharmacy sucked.

But because of work and college courses, I also had no time or emotional capacity to get involved, no matter how much I yearned for someone to hold me. Support me. Encourage me when my energy ran low—like it always seemed to do.

So, I simply focused on the best part I couldn’t keep my eyes off of.

The driver of the new silver F-250 with Harper’s Construction painted on its side.

Blake Harper in all his six-foot-plus glory climbed from the cab a stone’s toss away, and same as always when I caught a glimpse of the man, I swallowed a moan and a rush of drool.

The size of his pristine work boots suggested he was no small boy where it counted. His tight jeans hugged him in all the right places, leaving nothing to the imagination, and implied the same thing his feet hinted at.

Perspiration beaded between my breasts as I allowed myself to linger beneath the scorching sun in order to soak in the sight of physical perfection.

His navy button-down with the construction logo over his thick left pec hadn’t yet been dirtied from the day’s work and still appeared starched to perfection. I doubted he laundered his own clothes, but with the money he came from, why would he? The sleeves were rolled to his elbow, his thick, muscular forearms the type I dreamed of having wrapped around me, comforting and erasing all the burdens from my mind.

Light brown hair that appeared too carefully mussed topped his tall form, and blond highlights on the tips glinting in the sun made my fingers ache to grasp and hold on tight. Slashed eyebrows, a clean-shaven, sharp jawline, and cheekbones to die for made him runway worthy and the leading man in my dreams. Full lips with a perfect bow suggested he knew how to use his mouth to drug a woman with sensual kisses I’d never truly experienced and absolutely ached for. Dark blue eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes—

His focus landed on me, stealing my thoughts and breath.

Blake was a damn magnetic field stronger than any science fiction tractor beam. A wave of electrical current reached out across the short distance between us, attempting to snag hold of me. Ensnare me. Make me powerless…

I couldn’t move beneath his perusal.

His gaze caressed over me like X-ray vision, allowing him to peer through the wrinkled pharmacy uniform hiding my boyish figure I’d always hated. I could feel his appraisal like erotic feathering fingertips beneath my clothing. Shivers slid over my heated skin.

Damp panties? Check.

Tight nipples aching for teeth? Double check.

Our gazes once more connected—his slow, cocky smile snapped me back to reality even though my pulse continued to thrum in my neck. Those midnight blues stated he knew how the mere sight of him affected my body. 

My chin lifted as I attempted to sniff down my nose at him. The arrogant ass was so not my type, I told myself, even if he did look like a Greek god.

According to social media, Blake had his pick of women and wasn’t shy about flashing those pictures to brag. He liked them tall and graceful, blonde from a bottle, and with enough makeup caked on their faces to keep Sephora in business.  

The opposite of me.

A true playboy bachelor, he also never got photographed with a woman more than once.

Not that I stalked him or anything. I wasn’t interested in his life even if he did make my body purr. And I definitely wasn’t looking for a romp in the sheets that would leave me swooning over a man who refused to be tied down. Blake would be just like all of Mom’s boyfriends who’d been in and out of our lives as fast as a synodic day.

Nope. Nuh uh.

I’d had more than enough of those types during my childhood—except for the rich part. Trusting a man to actually stick around and make all my happily-ever-after dreams come true wasn’t going to happen no matter how pretty or wealthy he was.

Without returning Blake’s knowing smile, I spun and trudged up the exterior stairs to my apartment, a small one-bedroom on the third floor/attic of a house that had seen better days. I yanked open the wooden door that had swelled with the humidity, but the scent of fresh coffee along with a blast of AC in my face eased the growl of annoyance rising in my chest.

Same as every morning, I thanked the gods that some human thought up a timer so I didn’t have to stand and twiddle my thumbs while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.  

Two sugars and a splash of cream went into my steaming mug, and I sat at my small table beside the window overlooking the river through framed floors of the building across the street.

It wouldn’t be long before a brick exterior blocked off the peaceful view I’d enjoyed for the couple of years I’d lived there.

With a perfect scene of the toiling men below, I sipped and grieved the fact they would eventually be gone too.  

The racket of building filtered through the glass, but I didn’t mind since it didn’t compare to the shithole I’d grown up in.

My attention glued to Blake and who I assumed to be his foreman, a slightly shorter, dark-haired gorgeous guy I enjoyed watching boss around the other employees when the cocky asshole wasn’t on site.  

Blake held a set of rolled blueprints under one arm as the two men walked around, pointing at this or that and chatting with the carpenters. After their morning tour of the site, which lasted through my first cup of coffee, the two men headed into the trailer office alongside the road. I had to lean forward to keep them in sight until the door shut behind them. 

Coming Soon the big red sign beside the office at the construction site’s entrance read, Werner’s Point, Luxury Condos. 

Private parking, docks for those with boats, and balconies overlooking the river soon to be stolen from me, the website promised. Well, the owner didn’t give a shit about the last part, but no one ever cared what happened to those who came before the new, moneymaking condo buildings sprouted up.  

Sighing over losing sight of my favorite fantasy man, I retrieved a second cup of coffee and returned to my seat. My gaze once more lifted to the river lazing its way toward the Atlantic Ocean.

One day, I would be out of debt and rise above the label of white trash from Lynn, the City of Sin, as it was called. Sure, I’d moved from where my mom had raised me—and where she still wallowed. The stink of my childhood clung to my nostrils and skin regardless of the raspberry lotion I slathered on every inch of my body after showering.

Like the river, slow and steady, I had studied my ass off and worked my way out of that place. Daily, I thanked every god and saint imaginable that I’d been blessed with a measure of intelligence from my father since my mom had zero brains to speak of. He’d been the supposed love of my mom’s life who had lasted longer than the rest of her men.

They’d spent a whole whopping week together.

In reality, he’d been nothing more than a sperm donor, leaving Mom twenty-five years earlier without a trace of his existence other than the cleft in my chin. Beyond that single physical trait? I looked just like my mom.

Mousy brown hair that never caught the sunlight with auburn or golden glints like Blake’s thick locks. Some might appreciate my hazel-brown irises, but they hid behind glasses since contacts dried my eyes out to the point of pain.

Mom and I were both petite with a serious lack of curves, but at least I didn’t have track marks littering my arms or premature wrinkles from choosing to party rather than take care of myself.

While I didn’t respect her for falling into drugs and having dozens of boyfriends throughout my childhood, I appreciated the roof she’d kept over our heads and the food in my belly by working countless part-time jobs. She’d never once raised her hand toward me in anger, but she also never offered her arms for comfort or affection either.

She hadn’t been around that much and left me to my own devices, but at least no one had called the police on her where I’d have been tossed into the system. It was no wonder I’d become independent at an early age, determined to make more of myself than she had chosen to do.

But I also found myself touch starved.

The two guys I had dated had quickly grown tired of my neediness, my clinging onto them every chance I’d been gifted.

No one wanted a leech.

Especially one with a childhood as tarnished as mine.

Rubbing at my tired eyes beneath my glasses, I let out a heavy sigh, exhaling away thoughts of the ashes I was determined to rise above.

I swallowed down the last of my coffee and hit the shower, ready for my summer class to be over so I could crash for a few hours of sleep.

In ten months, six years of schooling would be a part of my past, and I would be a licensed pharmacist, making the pay that would eventually afford me a condo like the ones being built across the street.

I lathered up my hair, my eyes shut and mind dreaming beneath the tepid stream of water. One day, I would be debt free and finally feel a sense of satisfaction with my life.

Maybe I would get lucky and find an affectionate man who couldn’t keep his hands off me…one as hot as Blake Harper without the self-entitlement he portrayed online.

Snorting, I shut that fantasy down before the lonely little girl inside me went all heart-eyed over imagining soft kisses and warm arms to hold me tight.

Affirmations of love and acceptance—they’d all been proven false in my past, so what was the point of hoping or relying on others to fill me up with happiness?

Head set on straight and ready to get my ass to class, I went back out into the heat, hurried down my stairs, and hopped into my piece-of-shit car without once glancing across the street.

Regardless of my yearnings for intimacy, it was best to stay focused on the one person I could rely on to provide for my future.

Me.

Chapter 2

Blake

Prime building time was in early July, and my head threatened to explode from sinus pressure. I couldn’t breathe because of the elephant-like heaviness sitting on my chest. Didn’t sleep worth a shit all weekend because my aching body couldn’t get comfortable.

Dragging my ass out of bed on Monday morning, I grabbed the closest shirt off my bedroom floor, too fucking out of it to care what it was or if the damn thing was even clean.

I attempted to sniff for BO, but what a crock of shit that was too with how my nose was clogged up like a toilet stuffed full of paper. Soft cotton instead of starched draped over my torso, and I didn’t even look in the mirror before forcing myself to get in the truck.

Not long after sunrise, bleary-eyed, blinking, and yawning so hard my ears popped, I decided I’d had enough of toughing it out.

A pharmacy sat close by the jobsite, so I swung into the nearly empty parking lot.

I needed the daytime clear-up-your-fucking-head-and-take-the-throbbing-away-so-you-can-get-shit-done type of medicine before I showed up for work.

I stood in the cold and flu aisle, rubbing my palm over the scruff lining my jaw while staring, my brain half dead from the lack of sleep. Couldn’t even remember walking into the damn drugstore.

Muffled music reached through the fluff in my ears, but I couldn’t make out the words or tune. Didn’t even bother trying.

Dozens of cold medicine brands lined the shelves in purple, red, and green boxes. I picked up one of each color. They all listed drugs I couldn’t pronounce or begin to guess at how they would help me.

Fuck. My stuffy murmur echoed inside my pounding head. I grabbed two other boxes and headed to the pharmacy counter at the back of the store. ‘Scuse me?  

A tiny woman, head bent with honey-brown hair hiding her face, counted out pills on a tray.

Be right with you, she mumbled without glancing my way. 

So tired I couldn’t even blink, I let the boxes tumble from my arms onto the counter so I could lean my palms against it to hold me up.

She poured the pills into an amber bottle, twisted on a childproof cap, and slapped a label around it.

What can I help you with? she asked, starting toward me. Her focus lifted, eyes widening behind the nerdy glasses perched on her petite nose.  

She didn’t have that hot librarian thing going on with tits spilling out of a low-cut blouse, but something about her in the unflattering, scrubs-like outfit she wore snagged my full focus and woke me up the slightest bit.

I actually smiled at the flutters in my stomach like I was some lovesick middle schooler seeing his crush in the school’s hallway.

The fuck?

No woman had done that to me. Ever. Not even the one person I had allowed—

Pushing aside the thoughts I refused to dwell on, I took in the beguiling woman in front of me.

Pink tinted her cheeks, a gorgeous flush that warmed my chest and made me wish I’d been the one to put it there.

She stood no taller than my pecs—pint-sized. And damn cute too.

Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the medicine I’d dumped on the counter. I’m guessing you have a cold?  

I couldn’t help but stare down at her, my insides a riotous mess. Yeah. 

Fever?  

Nah. Just stuffed up. Pretty sure my head is going to pop before I get a chance to down some much needed coffee.

Leaving the boxes on the counter, she pushed through a waist-high swinging door and motioned me to follow her back the way I’d come. Not that I needed prodding. I gravitated toward her on instinct, my gaze dropping to her backside. Her shirt hung past her ass, not nearly tight enough for me to get a hint at what lay beneath.

My hands would span her waist, I didn’t doubt, and all that long, wavy hair gathered in a low ponytail begged for my fist to tip her head so I could ravish her neck with teeth-grazing kisses.

Life twitched in my groin at the thought of loving all over her body until she lay spent beneath me.

I couldn’t smell a damn thing thanks to my cold, but I imagined she’d be sweet in my nose.

She drew up in front of the shelf I’d been staring at, and fuck, how I wanted to crowd in tight against her and see what her ass felt like pressed all over my front. She was so short—

Squatting rather than bending for my viewing pleasure, she pulled a box off the bottom shelf. That'll clear you up for the day. 

She turned and smiled up at me with a guarded expression I wasn’t used to seeing on the opposite sex. Not a stitch of makeup highlighted her face. Full but pale lips and porcelain skin most women would kill for created natural beauty—the kind I wouldn’t mind marking with my teeth.  

The desire to slip off her glasses, bite those lips, and wrap my hands around her throat slid through my sluggish brain and blood, and my cock stirred a little more despite my feeling like shit.

Usually, I would drop a line or two, make my dimple pop, and not bother beating around the bush about my intentions, but I was too woolly-headed and addled from the feelings inside me to think straight let alone flirt or ask her out.

I took the box from her hand without a word. Our fingertips brushed, shooting a zing up my arm and straight down to my dick. Those were some serious sparks, and I swallowed a groan.

Her large hazel eyes widened, mouth parted on a fast exhale as though she’d felt the same impending explosion.

I narrowed my gaze in concentration, wracking my foggy brain as I realized she looked familiar. There was no way I’d fucked her. I would never forget the woman who was unlike my usual hookups. She was shrimp-sized, the type a guy my size could carry around all day without growing tired.

The thought of her tiny body wrapped around me, heels clinging to my ass and mouth sucking on my neck, sent a shot of adrenaline and rush of lust to my groin, waking me up to the point my pants grew uncomfortable.

I’ve seen you before, I murmured, my voice far from flirtatious and sexy with its stuffy tone.

She nodded, her cheeks still pink, but she held my gaze like a damn champ for how shy she seemed. You own Harper’s Construction.  

My head tipped to the side as I studied her hazel orbs half-hidden by those sexy glasses, wondering why she didn’t get that calculating glint in her eye most women did when they figured out who I was. The money I had. What I could give them.

Yeah, I answered, baffled and intrigued as fuck.

The fuck has she done to me?

Maybe it was the cold. Stuffed head. I wasn’t thinking straight.

Her chin with the cutest dimple lifted, shoulders pulling back as though offended rather than impressed by whose attention she’d completely ensnared. I live across from what will be Werner’s Point. 

Memory hit me.

The young woman who’d snagged my eyes the Friday before. I’d only caught a glimpse of her before she’d turned and strode away without the usual backward glance I got more often than not from men and women alike.

Blake Harper. I held out my hand even though she seemed less than thrilled to officially meet the man who would block her apartment’s view of the river.

She peered at my outstretched offering long enough I shifted on my feet in a rare outward display of…something I felt clear through my bones. Tilted off my axis, I peered at the small woman who shouldn’t have been able to unsettle me.

But definitely had.

Unease had my feet moving slightly again. Couldn’t fucking help it. The woman, in the brief span of minutes, had somehow burrowed into me like a damn tick.

I had to get her under me so I could pluck her from beneath my skin and move on.

With a huffed exhale, she finally clasped my hand.

Talk about a lightning strike straight to the dick. I flinched